


Returning Home

by I May Age Regress (shnuffeluv)



Series: Gibbs' Family [66]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Bathing/Washing, Bedtime Stories, Blankets, Dinner, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Episode: s04e02 Escaped, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Non-Sexual Age Play, Returning Home, Shovel Talk, Trust Issues, part 45!!! yay!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 09:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11354325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/I%20May%20Age%20Regress
Summary: Part two of Gibbs' return arc afterHiatus, set afterEscaped. Gibbs is back, now it's time to show that to the kids as well as his agents.





	Returning Home

Gibbs sat in his house, thumbing through a book he barely remembered owning, glancing at the clock, then at the words he had just been examining, then back up at the clock. It had only been ten minutes since he had gotten home, there was no way he would know if either DiNozzo or McGee were willing to play along with his idea. There was no way he would know if they even got his message.

Of course, maybe he shouldn't have dumped DiNozzo's and McGee's belongings on their old desks, but it was only things that had been out beforehand which he left out in the open. What was inside every drawer, every desk toy, personal item, or go bag, he had made sure to be careful with upon its return. Everything was put back in its place, right down to Tony's baby blanket, save for a post-it note that hadn't been attached to the aforementioned item. That had simply said: _My door's always unlocked, and you're never a bother_.

It might take the two a while to sort through everything, though, it's not as if he gave them a chance to on the clock. Maybe he should have said something to them. Maybe they would take it the wrong way. Maybe neither of them was ready for this. Maybe _Gibbs_  wasn't ready for this. Maybe--

The front door opened, and Gibbs leaned back into the couch, looking over. Tony walked in, and Gibbs could see that it _was_ Tony, not DiNozzo. There were subtle differences, but they were there, such as the inward posture and more openness on his face. McGee followed in after him and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering something in his ear. Tony shot McGee a look, but McGee was having none of it, murmuring something just outside Gibbs' hearing range, before giving Tony's shoulder a squeeze and heading upstairs.

Tony walked over to where Gibbs was sitting on the couch, and stood in front of him, arms crossed. Gibbs looked up at him expectantly.

"Papa left," Tony said.

Gibbs nodded. "Didn't realize what I was leaving behind. Knew some of it, but didn't realize what it was."

Tony's jaw clenched. "Papa's sorry?"

Gibbs nodded. "And willing to try again, if you don't mind."

Tony nodded, and looked toward the stairs. McGee wasn't in sight, and Gibbs felt his stomach sink at the thought that Tony would need a second perspective on Gibbs' offer. But it didn't look like Tony was going to wait for that opinion because he held out his arms and said the two-word order that made Gibbs wonder why he ever left for Mexico. "Papa cuddles."

Gibbs teased, "Not even a please at the end, you must be desperate," but opened his arms all the same.

Tony climbed onto Gibbs' lap, effectively taking the wind out of him. Tony curled into a ball and threw his arms around Gibbs' torso, squeezing as tight as he could. Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tony and sighed into the boy's hair, curious as to the calm feeling taking over, but not willing to question it.

Footsteps approached, and Gibbs looked over to find Timmy in pajamas standing at the edge of the couch. "Want to join?" Gibbs asked.

Timmy shook his head and crossed his arms, scowling at Gibbs. Gibbs blinked. He had assumed that when McGee had been happy to see him back at the office and DiNozzo was the sullen one, it would be the same case here. But it seemed that DiNozzo had been hiding an inner conflict, and while McGee was happy to have his old boss back, Timmy was just mad he had ever left.

"Something wrong?" Gibbs asked.

Timmy flinched and his scowl deepened. "You don't get to ask that," he whisper-shouted. "Not like nothing's wrong, not after what you did."

Gibbs nodded. "Fair enough. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Timmy's nostrils flared. "No."

"So why are you here?" Gibbs asked.

Timmy looked to Tony and his expression softened. "For him." Then he returned to glaring at Gibbs. "Not for you."

"That's fair," Gibbs said. "Timmy-"

"Don't," Timmy said.

"-I know I hurt you-"

Timmy scoffed. "Yeah? Shocker."

"-And I just want to apologize." When Timmy didn't respond, Gibbs pressed on. "I didn't realize what this was, or how much it meant to you and Tony, but that's no excuse for not even giving you a warning that I was leaving. It was irresponsible. Worse, it was thoughtless. Tony may be ready to have me back, but if that's not what you want, then I don't blame you. Though, whenever you're ready to give me a second chance, if you're willing to give me a second chance, I'll be here."

Timmy lowered his head, glowering at the ground. "You didn't...remember?"

"I remembered bits and pieces, but not what this was to anyone involved, and certainly not enough to make a judgement about whether I should leave or stay. I was acting on impulse, and I shouldn't have; not in this case."

"I...I thought you did..." Timmy said, voice wavering. "You remembered other things, so I just thought..."

Gibbs' stomach sank. "Oh, kiddo, _no_. I'd never leave you knowing that you needed me."

Timmy shook his head and started rocking. And before Gibbs could think, he had placed Tony on the couch and was moving to hug Timmy. Timmy shook his head and Gibbs stopped, arms at his sides but itching to reach out. After some sniffling and just a little bit of crying, Timmy took a shaky breath. "I'm okay," he breathed.

"You sure?" Gibbs asked.

Timmy nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Gibbs nodded. "Do you kids want dinner?" he asked. "I'm almost positive any soups that were here when I left will still be good if the cans are sealed."

Tony wrinkled his nose. "Ewwww," he squealed.

Gibbs chuckled. "It's okay, baby boy. It was a joke. I've been to the grocery store since I came back."

"You better have," Timmy said, cracking a smile. "I might just have to leave myself if there's no food."

"No!" Tony yelled.

Timmy's head whipped over to look at Tony and he held up his hands. "Sorry, Tony, I was just kidding."

"Not funny," Tony grumbled.

"Yeah, yeah. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry," Timmy said.

"Better mean it," Tony said.

"I really am, Tony. C'mon, let's do inventory, like when we'd pretend to be Robin Hood and his merry men? And I'll let you have the bigger half of whatever we eat!" Timmy coaxed.

Tony scowled for a second but got off the couch and latched onto Gibbs from behind in a hug. Gibbs tried not to laugh or freak out as he asked, "Hey, buddy...what are you doing?"

"Making sure Papa doesn't leave again," Tony mumbled.

Gibbs felt guilt eat at him. This was definitely new, no matter how many gaps in his memory may still be there surrounding this particular activity. "I promise I won't leave, buddy, okay?" Gibbs said. "But I'm gonna need to move around the house a bit, so if you could hold my hand instead of my back? Would that make you feel better?"

Tony hesitantly nodded, and took one of Gibbs' hands in a death grip. Gibbs didn't ask him to loosen it a fraction, though. He didn't blame not being trusted. "Let's see what we have for food, then," he said, moving to the kitchen.

Gibbs kept an eye on Tony and Timmy at all times. Timmy looked like he had seen a ghost, pale and eyes pink from crying. Tony looked like he was worried he was still looking at a ghost, and Gibbs would disappear any second. Gibbs felt bad, he had never wanted this. He was sure that they would be okay, or find someone else if they needed to, but that clearly wasn't the case. Timmy caught his eye and looked at him with suspicion. Gibbs smiled apologetically.

Timmy glanced away and Gibbs turned to look forward again, trying to keep his frustration at anyone but himself nonexistent. After all, he only had himself to blame. He looked in the pantry and sighed. Truth be told, he still didn't have a lot of food; he had assumed that this trial night would have already ended in disaster and he'd be booking a trip to Mexico. "Well, we have some tomato soup and the stuff for grilled cheese, does that sound good to either of you?"

Tony shrugged when Gibbs looked over, and Timmy didn't respond.

Gibbs looked back at the pantry and noticed the sealed tomato sauce and box of noodles. "How about spaghetti, hm? Sound better?"

Timmy glanced up at Gibbs and shrugged, while this time Tony looked dissatisfied. "Messy," he said.

"Only if you eat it with your fingers. And if you're having problems with a fork, I can help you."

Tony looked at Gibbs like he had grown a second head. "You mean it?"

Gibbs nodded. "I mean, I've done it before, haven't I? It never was a problem then, I don't understand why it would be now."

For the first time that night, Tony _grinned_. Gibbs returned a smile and ruffled Tony's hair. "Your toys are out in the living room if you want to wait while the noodles boil?"

Tony hummed his agreement and ran out of the room, not even sparing a glance at Timmy. The older boy followed his brother out with his eyes, but made no effort to move. "I'll help make dinner," he told Gibbs.

"You sure?" Gibbs asked. "I thought you might want to play."

"Need to talk first," Timmy said. His voice was wavering between big and little, and McGee rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I can't stay little, not now. Not here. But we need to talk."

Gibbs nodded once, grabbing the ingredients for spaghetti and turning toward the stove. "Why do I get the feeling this will be the shovel talk?"

"Mostly? Because it is," McGee said. "If you ever leave again, I can ensure that you won't be coming back. I will track you down, and I _will_  make sure you never return, whether it's by violence or not. And don't doubt that I _will_  get violent."

Gibbs pulled out a pot and poured water into it, placing it on the stove and turning it on before facing McGee. "Never known you to make threats."

"It's not a threat. It's a promise," McGee said. "You nearly broke Tony last time you left. I don't care if he thinks coming back changes that. He's been forced to believe that abandonment is fine if the person eventually returns, but it's not. And that's what you did, however unwittingly. You abandoned him. You abandoned _us_."

Gibbs sighed, turning breaking the noodles and putting them in the boiling water. "I know. And I'm not proud of it. I jumped the gun. And I'll do whatever I can to make it up to both of you."

McGee chuckled without humor in his tone. "There's nothing...nothing you can do to make it up."

"And why's that?" Gibbs asked.

"Because...even if either or both of us forgive this...this stunt, there's no way that we could hope to forget it. And your definition of making up involves going back to the way things were, like nothing ever happened! Have you even _heard_  of the term gaslighting?"

Gibbs turned around and eyed McGee. "Is that what you think I'm doing right now? You think I'm trying to gaslight you? Come back and deny I ever left?"

"You're certainly not trying to address the issue," McGee responded.

Gibbs shook his head and sighed. "Have you ever worked with kids for an extended period of time, McGee?"

McGee clenched his jaw. "No."

"Thing is, younger kids? Not all of them, but _most_ , thrive on routine. The best way to assure _Tony_  that I'm back is to do the same things I did before I left, and stick around to keep doing them. We can talk about why I left, yeah, and I'm not going to deny it, but it needs to be on both of your terms, not mine. And Tony doesn't look to be ready for that discussion to me. Does he look ready to you?"

McGee looked toward the living room, where both of them could hear Tony talking out some outrageous story and he shook his head. "No. But that doesn't mean you can ignore _my_  concerns."

"That's why we're talking here, isn't it?" Gibbs chuckled.

"Wait, what?" McGee asked.

"We," Gibbs said, waving his finger in between them, "Are talking out here so that Tony doesn't have to worry about this if he doesn't want to, and you get needed closure. Right?"

McGee blinked, and frowned. "Okay, there is no way I should have missed that after watching Tony's six for four months. He's done things far more confusing than that."

"Eh, you're between headspaces, even if you're leaning towards being an adult. Cut yourself some slack," Gibbs chuckled. "Even adults have slow days."

"You saying I'm slow?" McGee laughed.

"Nope. Just saying you're human," Gibbs said, stirring the pot of noodles.

McGee scoffed, before going quiet and glancing away. Gibbs watched him and noticed that at first, Timmy had looked like he was trying to keep McGee away, now it had been reversed, and a very upset little boy was trying very hard to stay adult. "Timmy?" Gibbs asked softly.

The boy's head whipped around in surprise.

Gibbs tried his best to keep his laughter from betraying his amusement, but Timmy looked offended anyway. "I think you have something you always trusted me to wash, but I didn't see you bring it in. Is it in your car?"

Timmy blinked and nodded, slowly.

"If you go get it, I promise I can wash it and have it back to you before bed," Gibbs said, making a _shoo_  motion with his hands. "All I have to do is heat the sauce, and I can get away from the stove for the minute it takes to throw your blanket in the wash."

For a second Timmy didn't respond, and Gibbs worried that he had missed some sort of cue, but Timmy very quickly tackled him in a tight hug, before just as quickly sprinting out of the room. "No running in the house!" Gibbs called after him.

All Timmy did in response was laugh his way out the door. Gibbs poked his head into the living room, where Tony was sitting in a circle of his toys, thoroughly confused. He turned to look at Gibbs.

Gibbs just gave a huff of laughter. "I just told him I could wash his blanket."

"Ohhhh," Tony said. "He's wanted to hear that for months."

"Has he?" Gibbs asked, walking into the edge of the room.

Tony nodded sagely. "He likes it much better when it smells like you than when it smells like him."

"Does he now?" Gibbs asked. "I know he preferred the smell of my detergent when I first got it for him to help with nightmares, but..."

"It's more than that," Tony said, tilting his head to the side. "He wants it to smell like Papa because that means Papa's there. As long as Papa's there, Papa can keep him safe, even more than the blanket can."

Gibbs sighed. "Tony, I screwed up, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Tony said softly. "But 'it's not important how you screw up, so long as it can be fixed.' Papa taught me that."

Gibbs smiled. "At least I did one thing right."

Timmy ran back in the house, closing the door and rushing over to Gibbs with his blanket. Gibbs smiled and took it, walking it back to the washing machine and putting it in, with a hearty amount of detergent. He started the old machine up and turned around, nearly running into Timmy. "I have to make the spaghetti sauce, would you like to help?" Gibbs asked.

His oldest mulled it over a moment before nodding. "M'kay."

Gibbs smiled and lead him back to the kitchen, removing the boiling pot of noodles from the burner it was on, replacing it with a fresh pot filled with spaghetti sauce. "Do you want to stir the sauce or pour the noodles? Both you have to be careful, though, because the pots can get really hot."

"I wanna stir," Timmy said, already reaching for a spoon to keep the sauce moving.

"Let me know when it starts to have steam come off it, that means it's ready," Gibbs instructed, finding his colander and proceeding to strain the noodles.

Soon enough the sauce was ready as well, and together Gibbs and Timmy set up three plates of spaghetti. Tony was all too eager to join them at the table, and Gibbs proceeded to help Tony eat his spaghetti before eating his own. Unfortunately, at the end of the meal it was clear both boys would be needing baths. Tony had sauce everywhere on his face and falling down his shirt, and Gibbs regretted not thinking ahead and nabbing a bib. Timmy's face had fared better, but his fork handiwork could have been more refined, and fishing through spaghetti sauce to retrieve the utensil on more than one occasion had left his hands covered in the sticky sauce. He was currently trying, rather unsuccessfully, to lick all of it off.

"Both of you need baths," Gibbs announced, standing up and picking up the plates from the table. "I'll meet you upstairs, provided that you don't lose your shirt on the way, Tony, and that Timmy doesn't touch anything."

Timmy looked almost offended but Tony was oblivious, standing up and heading to the stairs. Gibbs sent a gentle look to Timmy. "Come on, the sooner you get up there the sooner we can get you clean."

"Don't want a bath, Papa," Timmy said.

"No?" Gibbs asked. "I thought you liked them."

"I did," Timmy said. "But only when it's done right. An' I don' wanna have to show you how to do it right tonight."

"Another time, then, that's fine. Still need to wipe your face and wash your hands, though."

Timmy sighed and got up from the table. "I can do it, 'm a big kid," he said. "Can I touch the faucet on the bathroom sink?"

"Only if you wipe it clean afterwards," Gibbs said.

Timmy nodded and headed out. Gibbs put the dishes in the kitchen sink. Then he went to transfer Timmy's blanket from the washing machine to the dryer before following him to the upstairs bathroom. Tony was waiting for his bath on the toilet seat while Timmy was washing his face at the sink. Gibbs started the bath water and glanced at Timmy. "You don't mind being in here while Tony gets a bath?"

"Nuh-uh. Nothing he hasn't tricked me into seeing before in the gym showers," Timmy said. "I just don' like it when _he_  sees _me_  without clothes."

"Fair enough," Gibbs said, "Though I will be hearing about that situation later."

Once Tony was stripped and in the water, Gibbs began washing him and Timmy glanced over. He looked like he actually _did_  want a bath, just under different circumstances. Gibbs caught his eye and Timmy turned back to the sink. He finished washing his hands and walked out.

"Timmy isn't getting a bath?" Tony asked.

"He said he didn't want one, and he was clean enough that the sink did the trick."

"He wants one, though," Tony said.

Gibbs nodded. "I know he does. But he's not ready for it yet, or at least he doesn't think he is. Eyes closed."

Tony purred when Gibbs massaged shampoo into his hair. "I don't get it."

"Well...it's a hard thing to get," Gibbs said with a shrug. "I wouldn't worry about it right now."

Tony nodded. "I guess...it's a big kid thing, anyway."

"Mhm," Gibbs confirmed, rinsing Tony's eyes and draining the bath water. "Bit late to play in the tub," he explained at Tony's whine. "You can't play in the tub _and_  get an extra-long bedtime story."

Tony's eyes lit up and with some help out of the tub, the boy was pestering Gibbs with questions about the bedtime story. Gibbs gave vague responses all the way through putting Tony in a diaper and pajamas. Timmy observed the exchange from his bed. "If Papa doesn't wanna say what the story is he won't," Timmy said as Tony started to beg for answers. "He's good at that."

Gibbs smiled. "If you two can meet me in my room, I have to get a few things before we read the story."

Tony and Timmy shared a look but nodded, and Timmy lead Tony out of the room.

Gibbs hurried downstairs and grabbed Timmy's blanket from the dryer. It wasn't toasty warm, but it wasn't damp and that was good enough for tonight. Then he grabbed the book he had been looking through earlier, _The Phantom Tollbooth_. Kelly had loved it. Hopefully his new kids would as well.

When he got into his room, both Timmy and Tony were huddled on the bed. Tony perked up when Gibbs approached, and Timmy just smiled as if to say _I'm glad you came back_.

Gibbs got under the bed covers and looked at his boys. "You going to join me?" he prompted.

Tony scrambled under the covers and curled into Gibbs' side, while Timmy was a bit slower, though between clutching his blanket and Gibbs' arm, he knew the boy's attention was completely on him. "I thought you two might like _The Phantom Tollbooth_  for a longer bedtime story. It might take several days to finish, but it seems like the kind of thing both of you might like for different reasons."

"Read it," Tony whispered, voice bordering an order.

"Please," Timmy added.

Gibbs chuckled and started to read, only stopping when both boys were solidly down for the count. He carefully perched the book on his nightstand, and hunkered down on the mattress with his two boys. A thought crossed his mind, and for the first time since he had come back from Mexico, he honestly couldn't come up with even a lame excuse for an answer.

_Why did I ever leave?_


End file.
